


The Company You Keep

by strawberrysunday



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drugs, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Prisoners, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-25 01:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10753533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrysunday/pseuds/strawberrysunday
Summary: After a big revelation, Rick is down a path to self destruction. Life wasn't the same anymore, having made decisions he wished he could undo. Everything was lost, but then he finds light in his neighbour's words.AU where Rick is an inmate and the apocalypse happened more than a year later.





	1. Chapter 1

'Welcome to West Georgia Correctional Facility'. A sign that hung so proudly and boldly in front of the metal fence. It was true for the visitors but not so for the ones staying in the hellhole.

Just like the next person sitting beside him, he had become just another inmate. His entire life stripped down in one day by a single signature. Family taken away as well as his badge and gun. He wasn't the Sheriff's deputy anymore, what was left of him was only Rick Grimes the convict.

"Stay there and rot!"

The metal door closed shut, creating ripples of soundwaves that bounced off the four cemented walls of the tiny cell. A cell that he might as well call home for how often he had been in there since he had been confined and it had only been half a week since his last visit from solitary. A new record by his standard.

Rick liked it there, alone. Better than sharing a room with a killer back at the block. He wasn't like them. He was decent... was. He was everything, but not a criminal. Couldn't be one even if he wanted.

But then he suddenly was, just like the bullet that penetrated his chest and put him in a coma, in an instant he became a threat to his family. All he ever wanted was to protect them, to keep them from harm's reach. To keep them from Shane. He understood then what it meant to act a crime of passion as he sought revenge that he did not intend.

If only it had been Shane who caught the bullet, then everything would have been good. It would have been perfect if it was through the head too. The thought of it disgusted him, but he did not feel guilt. His time spent here took a toll on him physically but more mentally. He's starting to think like them, act like them. Becoming unstable, although he would never admit it verbally, he felt it. Little ants digging their way through his head to reconstruct his inner walls. They weren't builing a home, they were build a maze, where they themselves don't know the way out of it.

Even his own mind abandoned him.

Rick lied down on the bed, nothing but hard and uncomfortable. The mattress reeked of sweat, saliva and other bodily fluids, suggesting many before him had been here.

What did they do as they were in here? Did they pray, seeking for forgiveness? Did they imagine an alternative world, where they didn't have to make _**the**_ choice? Did they think about their friends? Family? The questions got him thinking of Carl and... Lori.

Lori...

He wept from the pain of remembering. It still hurt like it was yesterday. It was always something that kept his life in a constant swirl. Like some higher entity wanted him to be miserable. What did he ever do to deserve this?

He did his best to be the considerate and understanding husband, who always welcomed Lori home with a smile and open arms, even if they had an argument just that morning. He became the strong, brave and loving father, who always checked under Carl's bed for any monsters, before kissing him good night. How was this any fair? What did Shane do to deserve what was rightfully his?

Shane was a liar, a cheater, an asshole nothing like Rick. Yet Lori chose to be with the worthless, sorry excuse of a man. He would only hurt her once he gets bored. Would leave her. And she would come right back crawling to Rick and like the good husband he was, he would wrap her in his arms and kiss her forehead, accepting her apology like a desprate fool eagerly digging a deeper hole for himself. The point of escaping no longer reachable, having found out that no other pinky could wrap around his so tightly and cruelly yet so gently and lovingly at the same time.

"Keep the fuck quiet!" A man from the cell next door shouted through the tiny hole on the wall connecting both cells. "I'm trying to fucking sleep here!"

But Rick did not stop. He couldn't. It had been such a long day. Stress and exhaustion agitating him to no end. With a clogged drain, his worries were overflowing. His mind gave him no rest. Everywhere he looked reminded him of his mistake, of Lori. He couldn't escape her grasp, not even within his dreams. Her absence was a catalyst to the disease that was spreading faster and stronger every day.

He still loved her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Everything was. But Rick did not reply. He wiped away his tears and covered his mouth, granting the man's request. His chest hitched up as he inhaled the rotten smell of the room time and time again. He couldn't calm down, couldn't sleep. So much that the bags under his eyes must have weighted a couple of pounds.

When the Sandman came to visit, gingerly sprinkling some sand on top his eyes, he was delighted. But then, the night hag would ruin everything, crushing his chest and taking his breath away. The cruel lady woke him every night. In his sleep paralysed state, the night hag looked exactly like Lori. Brown long hair partially covering those tiger's eye orbs. She wore an innocent white dress flowing along her curves. Just like on their wedding day, when she became Lori Grimes, she looked beautiful.

Her touch was fierce, but he craved for more, he wanted her. Wanted her back. He felt her scorn as she pushed his lungs further, stronger down with her thin, tender fingers against his cage. The intent to suffocate was clear as day. Unable to breath, he could only look into her judging eyes before they disappear in thin air.

His eyes were playing tricks on him again. It had become harder to differentiate fiction from reality. The colors just blended into one abstract painting, no means to tell the end from the beginning. Maybe the whole prison was all a sham for his very own asylum room. But of course, that was not the case. The walls felt solid like any other wall he had been pushed on to during his entire carrier of being a cop. This was real, that, he could be sure of.

"You sound like a bitch getting head. You sure you have balls between those thighs?" Rick could hear the smirk in the mocking voice. His presence clearly unwanted by the man. Probably annoyed of his endless sniffling. He couldn't had known that there was a hole, it wasn't his fault. He wouldn't had wanted someone to hear him howling either.

Ignoring the voice, Rick got up. There was a small sink right next to the toilet, where he splashed his face with some water. Cold water. Prisoners didn't have the luxury of being kept warm. Even the entire prison felt cold both literally and metaphorically. It had a deataching effect that reminded him everyday of his wrong doings.

The cold made him shiver, making him gasp for air. Staring into the square mark intently where the mirror had been removed - as inmates took every little opportunity to heart - he vividly saw droplets running down his vague imaginary reflection and he wiped them away with his baggy blue jumpsuit, which had become many things since his arrival, redefining the piece of clothing as long as his creativity allowed it.

He didn't mind the missing view though, somehow he was thankful for its removal. This way he wouldn't see the monster hiding beneath his skin, which was scratching from the inside and already plotting an escape.

He sat at the corner of the bed, against the walls with his knees up on his chest, rubbing his arms warm. There was whistling coming from the other side with an unfamiliar melody. Rick stared at the finger sized hole near the floor. He didn't want to complain. He knew the type of person his neighbour was. It was a provocation to get him speaking and he wasn't about to give in. With little pride left as an officer of the law, that would mean defeat.

The whistling wasn't as bad as he would like to admit. Soon, he was nodding off to it, which transitioned to humming sometime before he jerked awake a few minutes later. Disoriented by the light, he clutched the mattress in an attempt to hold onto reality.

His sleeves were wet from the damp of his hair. The sweat made it curl more, like that on rainy days. Lori used to play with his locks in bed, tangling them with her fingers like a telephone chord. It annoyed him to the point where he was compelled to get them cut, satisfying Lori's intention.

He should stop thinking about her. Stop remembering things he shouldn't. Her face, habits, character. In need to forget, to erase, to abandon and banish all those bittersweet memories of him and her. Of the nights they spent together talking about their future while enjoying each other's warmth.

Like a movie, the images flashed before him. Looping and focussing only on them. On her. Showing everything good and it made him feel bad, because he should hate her. But he could never blame her. She was his everything.

Replaying the memory of her felt so good but he should stop. It was wrong and harmful. But he couldn't just forget about her. The motion picture in his head was so clear, spending time staring at the sunset when they used to date. Her subtle, little actions that made Rick's heart skip every time. She was a sucker for romance and Rick gave her that. Became her knight in shining armour and played the role of someone he wasn't just to please her. He sacrificed everything for her, just to make her happy and he was happy with that. Seeing her smile always made him feel complete, made his day on grey skies.

Her perfect smile.

Pain surged in his scalp, he hadn't realized he was pulling his hair. He hissed in pain, tears falling down. It wasn't from the handful of hair. It's all because of Lori.

Stop.

The humming faded on cue and Rick swallowed hard on making a decision he knew he would come to regret.

"Hey." His voice, it sounded different: rough and hoarse, unsure and shaken. He crawled down towards the hole on all fours, not realizing or minding how pathetic it looked. "Hey, are you still awake?" He was desperate, a hint of neediness underlying in the tone, and his mouth shivered in protest. "Hey, talk to me." He didn't want to hear his thoughts anymore. Anything but her. He couldn't take anymore of it. "Ple-" He choked on his words. What did he become?

"What?" It sounded utmost annoyed and it made Rick lose confidence in his shameless act of burdening the man with his worries.

"I-..." This was a mistake, he shouldn't have. What was he thinking? He wasn't here to make friends, he was here to make amends. But he needed this so bad. Where had his 'big' pride gone?

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Tell me something, anything. I... I want to hear your voice." It was more of a plea than anything. It sounded weak and hesitant.

"Damn, did I got you all hot from my mating call?" A sick twist of humour but Rick didn't care what the other spoke of, as long as it was not about Lori.

"Yeah. Yes, so please. Please keep talking." It sounded like he was about to cry. He was sure his neighbour noticed it too, because soon after a brief silence he complied. Not with the trash he had been talking, but, with quite a little human intellectual understanding of Rick's situation, a proper normal conversation. His tone was different, tamer and softer. Reassuring Rick of his willingness to comfort.

"How about a funny story? You know, I used to be a teacher. A gym teacher." A long pause. Maybe he was expecting some sort of surprised choke from Rick, but nothing came from him in fear of discouraging his neighbour to go on.

"And, I had this one kid in class, Patrick, but everybody called him fatty Patty. Because, well, yeah... he was fat." The way he said it like that was the punchline was so immature, but it had an innocent childlike charm that made his neighbour's story bearable.

"So fat infact that he couldn't keep up with the others. He got bullied a lot. I tried to help him get fit, but you know what he told me? He told me that Tina liked him that way. He was dating the most beautiful cheer leader in school. I mean, can you believe that? Heck, I would totally date the girl if I were still a teenager. Turns out the girl had a fat fetish and before I knew it, all the other boys started to fatten up like turkeys on thanksgiving. Still can't believe they did that. I graded them all a D at the end, because they were a bunch of **D** icks and **D** ouche bags, but at least they tried going for their dream. That effort was atleast **D** -serving." He laughed at his own pun and Rick let out a small crack too, motivating his neighbour to speak some more. It wasn't funny, but he tried. If he convinced himself that he was happy, maybe he would be. The power of suggestion was a strong aid without cost and maybe he should try it.

His neighbour began to tell stories after stories of his teaching years. Whether it was about his students or his colleagues, he always found something to nitpick about. And before Rick realized, he dozed off by the rough vibration of his neighbour's voice that reached the other side and enveloped his ears like headphones, guarding him from Lori's abusive words.

In his almost three months of imprisonment, only now did he sleep soundly without waking to the horrendous hag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so this will become a little dark and I recommend to cover yourselves with blankets. The first chapters will focus mainly on Rick to establish his inner sufferings. Updates are going to be slow.  
> And if anyone's wondering, I'll be updating Red riding hood [...] some time in the second week of May or earlier. I've been pretty busy with this one.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good morning, Rick."

He jolted awake. It wasn't Lori's. It never was. It was much deeper, a man's rumbling. His friend's voice. It was Joel. 

Joel was Rick's friend. He was a cop just like him. Used to work in the station, mostly doing everyone's paperwork. He was a nice guy, loyal to his friends. Even after Rick's and Shane's fight, Joel stayed with him. Supporting him, even protecting him from Shane's pawns in this prison, who made it their mission to only see Rick harmed. 

It wasn't easy being a convicted officer. Not only the inmates, but even the guards wanted a piece of meat to roast over the campfire. They hate Rick's kind of hypocrisy and when an opporrunity rose, they kick him down like the last scoundrel. The guards had their best piece of him on the first two weeks of his stay. At first it were only venomous words, but it escalated quickly into heavy punches and kicks on his abdomens where no one could see. They made it clear to Rick not to show or tell Joel or for a matter of fact, anyone else who wasn't them. Else he would face heavy consequences, involving a beating half to death, which he was sure they were capable of. 

As the first month passed they were getting tired of him. No prisoner knew who he was then, he blended right in until there was a slip of tongue among one of the guards. Of course, it was done with intention, wanted to see Rick suffer. There was an uproar in the cell block, a fight broke out and Rick got bruised again, but his opponent, an unlucky inmate, got it worse. Was sent to the infirmary with a dislocated shoulder and a few fingers broken. Fighting an inmate was diffrent from fighting a guard. Inmates were fair and square while the other party had to use tricks and tools even with a defenceless man as an opponent.

The fight earned him respectful nods among few inmates while the others gave him stinking looks of anger. But since then, they only stared at the ex-officer, occasionally engaging him on a little fists on fists just to challenge him, sometimes teaming up on him and sending him to a trip down the infirmary. It was the best cover up the guards could have wanted.

The roughness of the prison toughened Rick up, too much even for his own liking. It made him feel better every time his knuckles hit a jaw. Hearing cracking of bones whether it was his or the other's, it pumped adrenaline into his blood, making him feel alive. The brawls with the inmates was a way to let out his pent up frustration, but he despised the comfort he found in violence, he wasn't that kind of a man. At the end of the day he wasn't a bloodthirsty criminal, but observers would think otherwise. His fists covered in blood spoke volumes for itself. What would Lor-...

"Morning." Rick finally replied.

"Slept well?" Joel passed on the tray of breakfast through the opening. The other side looked completely different, like a window to an alternate dimension. 

"Kinda." He slowly made his way to the cold metal door which seperated him from society and his family and accepted the tray with a thank you.

"I got you something below your plate. It's the best I've got. Hope that's okay." 

A photograph was revealed beneath the dish. It was a picture of Carl. The angle quite strange, only half of his face could be seen and even that was blurry. "Well, this is better than nothing. I can't really complain, but you really need to start working on those shaky hands." They both huffed out a laugh. 

Rick took a moment to admire the image, gently traced his thumb on the boy's face. He missed him. Three months have passed since he last saw him. Carl looked slightly happier compared to his other photos which had been shredded to pieces by the guards or been stolen by the inmates during fights. His boy had grown and matured a little with the way he carried himself in the photo, and it crushed Rick's heart not being able to see him in person. "Thanks a lot Joel. I mean it. You're the only one left."

"Hey, don't worry. You helped me out a lot in the past. This is nothing compared to that." 

Yeah, Rick remembered. Joel used to be an alcoholic, got that way after his wife died in an accident. He could barely keep himself afloat and with a more or less new born baby girl in arms, he didn't know what to do. He approached Rick one day, begging for help and Rick did, took care of his baby and gotten him back on his feet. Gave him all the support he needed and they both grew up just fine. 

Rick hadn't expected to undergo something similar to that. Couldn't imagine a life without Lori. But even then, he thought he would be able to hold it together for Carl. He initially thought Joel was over exaggerating, but experiencing it himself, what Joel had shown was an understatement to the pain he felt inside and Lori wasn't even dead yet.

"Well, I better be going. There are still a lot of mouths to feed. See you around." With that the opening shut and Rick sat alone in silence.

He lied down, ignoring his food. He wasn't hungry, lost his appetite over all the stress his mind occupied. The food could barely go down his throat without gagging it out. Wilting from the lack of proteins and carbohydrates, his body was starting to degrade, mimicking a man in poverty.

"Rick." His neighbour called out. "So, your name's Rick." The way he rolled up the R in his tongue for a prolonged pronunciation made Rick shiver. Goose bumps forming all over his skin, taking him back to a distant memory. Shane used to be the only one who savored and rolled his name that playfully around the tongue. He used to like it, that was when they were still friends. Now it irked him whenever his R was played a tad too long, made him aggressive, prone to more violence.

"My name's Negan." 

Rick stared at the ceiling where the light never dims. Day and night were hard to tell apart by the lack of a clock. It was driving everyone crazy at some point, not knowing how long they're still going to stay there or how long they've been in there. The meals were the only orientation, the salvation from the torturous waiting. The prison's system was clear about changing the prisoners' attitudes, but it was undoubtedly for the worse. 

He stared at the hole, a crack in the perfectly, well organized system. The hole was a distortion in all the routines, a crack in one's reality and beliefs. Everyone in forced isolation would give everything just to be in his shoes, just for a little conversation to distract them from the agony of boredom. And yet here he was, humming in response, acknowledging Negan but not bothering to be further involved because Rick was supposed to be a well disciplined man, he was, after all, an officer, a stickler for the rules. But Rick was a different man now and temptation, or much rather desperation struck him shortly after. He didn't want to test Lori's patience, because he knew she would come for him again if left alone to his own. It was the fear that changed him into this weak man that he hated. 

"Hey, what's with the cold shoulder? Are you one of those people, who only do the 'one night stands and can't be friends' shit? Even after I practically cradled you to sleep last night." His neighbour's metaphors were insanely perverse, but Rick rode along, indulging in his humour. He didn't want to miss the opportunity of a companion.

"Actually, I never had a one night stand before. So, I can't really say." 

"Fuck, like seriously? You poor prick, you don't know what you're missing out on." 

"Well, I am happily married." It brought an involuntary smile on Rick's face. He was remembering his first day with her as his missis. The memory never got old. It felt just like yesterday when they slept in and cuddled in bed talking about their future. It were those moments, where he fell in love with her most. "I never had a reason to." Of course, there were plenty but he choose not to, out of what little respect he had left for her. While she on the other hand, was enjoying the warmth of someone else's arms.

"You, sir, are sure one lucky fucker. Where is she now?" 

The question made him realize his slight mistake in phasing the words. He isn't happily married, he was. Then maybe, it wouldn't have promped the question of where on earth she was. Beat him. Probably off with Shane somewhere getting fucked. Spread so wide like a slut. Getting everything she ever wanted, while he sat in prison, left to rot.

What?

"Rick?"

"...Yeah, sh- she... um..."

Where did that thought come from? He wasn't like this. Didn't use to think that way. Lori wasn't a slut. How could he ever think of her as that? She was the sweetest thing ever.

" _Rick_?" His head jerked up and he saw Lori. Lori standing in front of his bed in her white dress. Her hand caressing his head in a loveful manner. She was beautiful just like he remembered.

"Lori..." He sat up to hold her in his arms. Her tender stomach cushioning his head. He could hear his blood pumping in his ear. "I'm sorry." Although he didn't know what he was asking forgiveness for. 

Lub dub.

"Lori, please... Come back to me." 

Lub dub.

It was a beating heart. Not his, but someone else's heart. The beats were little and faint. He held up his hands to touch Lori's growing womb. She looked happy as she gently rubbed it. Not his, but someone else's baby. 

Shane's. 

It was Shane's.

Shane's baby with Lori.

God punish him for thinking the unforgivable, but he wanted to rip the baby out of her. Tear it apart to erase every trace of Shane. He wanted it gone because it should have been his. It was an abomination, yet it remained so innocent. It didn't know the sin of its parents and Rick was ready to accept it as his own. Was ready for it to grow up and remind him everyday of Lori's dishonesty and his naivety.

But then Shane just had to ruin it. He just had to get in the way and make a big deal out of it. Promising Lori empty lies and it swayed her to give in. Manipulated her to be his.

He should have killed him. He had a chance to and he let it slip from his grasp. Shouldn't have hesitated to bash his head against the wall. Even if he would end up in prison, atleast he could sleep well at night knowing that Shane wasn't in his bed. That Shane wasn't living happily with Lori. That Shane wasn't going to be Carl's stepfather and get called dad. 

Shane was stealing his life. Stealing everything he ever loved one by one. In truth it wasn't just stealing, it was far worse, a thought more terrifying. He wanted to replace Rick's entire being. Replace him with a much better version, everything that Rick couldn't be. Everything that Lori wanted of him, that he couldn't fulfill. 

"Rick? Everything alright?" Joel looked through the opening, eyes full of concern.

Awakened from his thoughts, he looked around to gather himself. He was still in prison and Lori was no where to be seen just like many of his hallucinations. His food tray seemed to have vanished too.

"What time is it?"

"It's three in the afternoon, Rick. Time for your walk." 

He shut his eyes in disbelief. Seven hours. No, it got to be more than seven hours. He missed lunch but then again didn't, his stomach felt full enough, so he must have eaten something without his conscious knowledge. The last thing he needed now was losing time too.

There was a terrible headache clouding his mind. He got up to approach Joel. Hands sticking out of the opening to get it chained. The door cracked open and he was out. His eyes fell upon his neighbour's door, he couldn't remember finishing his conversation with Negan. The man must have been irritated from all the waiting. 

Rick was lead out to the open air. It was getting colder. Winter was coming and so was the baby's due.

"If it's a girl can we call her Judith?" Carl was excited to have a baby sister or brother, but mostly wanted a sister. He always wanted a sibling to protect so he could finally act as a big boy, as the strong and capable big brother.

"Sure we can, Carl."

But it wasn't really his sister or his brother. The baby was just half his blood and Carl would never know. He made Lori and Shane promise not to tell Carl. He didn't want Lori to look like the bad mother that she really was. Carl wouldn't understand and he wanted Carl to live in an illusion of a perfect family, sadly now without him.

Rick looked at the sky. It was mirroring Carl's blues. He took out the picture in his pocket to admire his young boy. 

Carl. 

Also he had betrayed Rick. Testified against him in court. But he could forgive him, he was young and didn't know what he was doing. He was only repeating the words that were whispered to him by the devil.

Oh, Carl. Poor Carl. He didn't deserve to live with the devil and its wife. Didn't deserve to lose his father.

"Time's up."

\-    -    -    -    -    -    -

Rick returned to his chamber. The light still glowing, the bed still stinking. The metal door closed behind him.

There was nothing to do. No paper, no pen, no book. Nothing to keep his mind occupied other than his faults. The cell was small and all he could do was pace around, counting his steps as he turned the corner. 

One, two, three and turn. 

The hole on the floor was welcoming. Shining its own light into Rick's cell. Negan hasn't spoken. It's been a few hours. What was he up to in that room all alone? What was he thinking about? Negan could be as miserable as him and he wouldn't know. What did he know about his neightbour? Close to nothing.

Four, five, six. Turn.

Maybe if he talked then he would get to know him. It would make it easier to open up. But why did it matter anyway? What was he possibly trying to achieve with a talk?

It was only showing weakness. It was a telltale sign that he was lonely and broken. And to tell the truth he needed help. He knew that, but there was no helping him in this prison. It could be compared as to having leaped from the top of empire state, except miraculously surviving the impact and just laying there on the hard concrete with every last bone broken. And as he's staring at the false Gods above begging for mercy, all they could ever do is chuckle away at his crippled form.

Being crazy in a normal prison was the worse thing that could happen. Everyone would abuse the instability of that person's will until it becomes too late to lend a helping hand. Because in the end they would always find something sticking out of the wall to hammer their heads in, completeing the missing picture to the invisible frame.

Eight. Nine. Ten. Turn.

"Negan." It came out reflexively, for his thoughts execute the actions without confirmation. His mouth just opened and formed syllables containing the man's name.

But there was no reply. Maybe Negan got sick of him for always crying. He should have shut up.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

"Are you there?" 

He was on edge. His alone time in solitary always made him that way. Turn. But still no answer. The cell next door was quiet as an unoccupied one.

Ten. Eleven... He laid on the floor, taking a peek inside the room. It was dark, as the lights had disappeared.

"Negan?"

There was heavy breathing coming from the hole. The gasping for air sounded painful. The smell of death was evidently seeping through his side and it made him scrunch up his nose in disgust, although he still wondered whether his neighbour was okay.

"Negan?"

He moved an inch closer. His light catching an eye's glimmer. He stared at it as it remained wide eyed. It was red and dry, rolling around its socket in jerky movements. This couldn't be Negan, Rick felt unexplanably sure about it. It must be someone new. He stared at the jumpy eye of his new neighbour for a while, whose head stayed as still as a dead man's, not experiencing the pain of the rough surface of the floor.

The eye made him calm, feel at ease having someone look at him as a human and not some trash. It was almost as if it had lost all of its emotions of distaste and suffering. It was honest in a sense that it stared at Rick without dropping the gaze to shy away. The eye spoke to him in million ways but no words were uttered, it was just an exchange of uncannily similar blues which he understood very well.

"Dinner." It was the only warning before the tray had been pushed over the opening's edge and fell on the ground. 

Nights were the worse. Joel's protection only extended in the mornings and afternoons. By dark it was hell on earth. The devil's demons doing as they pleased.

The crash had peeled Rick's eyes off of his new neighbour. What a mess it made, mashed potatos splattered like brains, it stuck on the floor. The water spilled, his socks soaking wet. His shoes left beneath the bed. 

What a mess it made. He had to clean it up before Lori got home. The clock's hand was moving, any minute she could be back and he didn't want her to be upset, so he picked the bowl up and scrubbed the mess off with _tissues_. She'd surely be happy when she'll get home. He just has to welcome her with a kiss and everything's alright. But first he needed the floor cleaned.

To scrub the dirt off.

Scrub it off.

Oh, right... 

She won't come back. 

 _Never_ will.

"Scrub it off. Scrub it off." It felt so good. Skin peeling off, leaving some of his tissues between the grainy surface of the floor. Proof of his existence.

Proof that he was real.

"Look it's bleeding, what have you done?" A hand stopping him. The look in her eyes. Why does she look at him like that? Those damned eyes looking all sorry for him but in reality all disgusted at what he's become. 

"Don't look."

It made him boil in anger when she just kept pressing. He wanted to gouge her eyes out to make her stop. 

"You aren't even real!" 

Lori wasn't real. She wasn't. She _won't_ be anymore!

"Rick..." She was choking. He was choking her. On the floor pooled blood. The red scattered everywhere like rose petals on their honeymoon, which complimented her even paler color better now. A beautiful work of art and her body was going limp from all the excitement too. He knew she loved it. Her eyes were reflecting the light more livelier than ever and she touched him, oh so gently caressing his arm. His eyes followed the touch and they landed on her stomach.

Her open stomach.

Revealing a fetus almost finished development, its heart desperately beat to survive the open world. But it didn't last long before it melted away. Shredded to tiny bits, helpless as it is. Lori was shouting in pain, cradled in her arms the pieces of its remains. 

"Murderer!"

She cried. Accusing him as always and he just wanted her to shut up. So he lifted his hands, his _bloodied_ hands to...?

What was he going to do to her?

"Do it!" Lori screamed at him.

His eyes opened.

He was lying on the floor, the eye long gone. His breath shallow. His clothes steep from the water that had fallen. No blood, just water. He was awake. Wide awake. 

Finally awake.

It was a dream. A dream that should, for his and her sake, not come true. It was a dream which held his fearful desires. 

Not a nightmare.

Just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't trust Rick. Neither should you.
> 
> Who else is excited for the last of us 2? Anyway, thanks a bunch for the love and comments, it made me happy.


	3. Chapter 3

Time traveled slow but sometimes fast. And right then it was accelerating at the speed that Rick was almost uncomfortable with. Racing past him even too fast for his mind to follow.

Negan had become a reoccurring character in his imaginary world. Appearing and disappearing in the cell next door as he pleased. Whistling but never speaking. Never complying to Rick's plead unlike the first time, wich made him believe that Negan was just another fabrication of his mind like Lori. An unknown character without relation to keep him stable.

Many days had gone by. A week in solitary was ought to be enough, so the guards released him past noon, thinking it's time to reintroduce him to ' _society_ '.

"Joel, I can't." He held on to his bed. Far away from the metal door with fear drawn on his face, as he continued to refuse Joel's attempts of persuasion.

"Come on, Rick. We can't lock you up in here forever. You know we aren't allowed to do that." The spoken tone light, almost accompanied with laughter as frustration grew.

"I don't need that." It was always a difficult task to get Rick out of isolation. His mind was always a scrambled egg after a week that he would come to doubt his own judgement of right and wrong, of real and fiction. He feared himself for doing something he could not control, like his murderous impulse that never seem to go away and only grows bigger during his alone time with 'Lori'.

"What you need, Rick, are people. People to talk with. Real ones. Don't go in and start a fight. Just try it. I've been hearing you talking and it concerns me. Do you need help?"

He bit his lips, afraid to blurt out something he'd regret. "No. I'm fine." And he approched the door just to prove his point. Holding his hands out the opening to get them cuffed.

He didn't know why most people had the difficulty to seek help before. But now he realized or much more understood that it was actually so hard to admit. The acceptance or merely having the thought of going or being insane was a fearful thing. He already lost his image as the ideal officer of the year and he wasn't prepared to taint it further by adding a crazy title in front of his current status. What would people think of him? He could already hear Lori's mother's nagging about how right she was about Rick being a bit weird from the get go, that she had seen it coming. Rub it on him like salt in his wounds, that she knew he was never the man for her Lori. To look at him with disgust and humiliation. Judgment raining down on him like a hammer.

They walked in the hallway leading to his block. He felt eyes on him, guards and prisoners alike staring with intensity as the whispers grew. And like the main attraction at a freak show, he entered the common room with hands twitching at both sides, eager to get out.

"Joel, don't do this."

"I have to, Rick. You'll feel better after a day."

With that, he left Rick behind another row of bars which was full of lunatics. Sulkingly he took a seat at the only empty table, finding himself looking up at the guard in the watch tower.

Life would have been so different, if only he made the right decisions earlier on, then all of this wouldn't had happened. Heck, he could have been the guard in the tower watching over these hopeless souls as they go on about their miserable routines of which he now became part of. He wouldn't have been shot. He wouldn't have known about Lori and Shane, and their betrayal.

"Good afternoon, _Officer._ " A hand was slammed on the table right under his nose, which was dismissed as a friendly greeting by the guards. The man, who dared approach Rick was Theodore, the one who brawled with Rick after everyone found out about his 'secret' identity.

Teddy, short for Theodore, was one of the big shots in his block, always surrounded by a group of selected few rogue outcasts. He still hasn't gotten over the fact that Rick put him in the infirmary for a couple of days and the slightly shorter man has just been itching to get back at Rick since then. So it was no surprise at all that Teddy came to him with the usual gesture. The intimidation of the action lost its effect over time due to routine. Everything revolved around it and without it, many would go crazy, even Teddy.

Rick stared at the man, eyes colder than winter. It was clear he didn't want to be disturbed, but Teddy took a seat across him anyway. His men standing behind him.

"Don't be so cold, pretty."

Rick kept his mouth shut, staring somewhere else other than the man in front of him. He knew this wouldn't work out as Joel planned to. Teddy would always ruin everything one way or another sometime during the week. The man just went under Rick's skin so much that he would be devoured by his strong negative emotions, leaving all his rationality behind.

"Pretty-"

"Leave me alone, Theodore."

"Aw... you're hurting me, pretty. When will you finally start calling me Teddy?" Rick was shooting daggers at him and Teddy clicked his tongue with a smirk and shook his head like Rick just did something unbelievable. When Rick answered him with a confused look and his full attention, Teddy began to clear his throat, licking his dry lips after, before he pulled something out of his pocket. A picture of Carl, which he stole from Rick. "Yours right?"

Rick stayed silent, his blood boiling in anger. Filthy fingers were touching the image of his boy. He could see the dirt tainting it. How he wished to cut them off and feed it to the man to finally shut him off.

"The boy is pretty, just like his father. You know the first thing I'd do when I'm out of here? I'll find your home and make him suck my dick because daddy wasn't man enough to do the deed. And your wife, her pussy's going to be good friends with my thick, large doggy. Oh, they're going to beg. They're going to cry out for daddy real lo-"

Rick couldn't take it anymore. His fist knocked Teddy right off the chair. But he didn't stop with just that, he went further this time. No one got away with harming his family or even thinking about it. They'd have to get through him first before they'd touch them. Have to kill him first.

"You pig!" He shouted in between pants. He was crushing Teddy's hand with the ball of his foot. He felt it crack beneath his shoe. Hearing the other scream just made him more riled up. "You won't be touching anyone!" The other was on the floor and it didn't prevent Rick from beating him down further. Straddling him to keep him still. A few knocks on the cheeks. Head banging on the floor until blood oozed out if the nose as well as mouth.

He felt his lips tugging up at the corners. He should feel shame, but it felt good. People were pulling him off and he struggled to land a few more punches on the paedophile. He kept going, not stopping now. Not ever.

"Rick!"

He was sure it was Joel's voice, but before he could look around, he felt a tingling shock wandering through his body, starting from the neck down to his feet. Muscles spasming at the flowing current. His eyes jumping around, unable to focus making him dizzy and falling as the lights went out.

\-         -         -         -         -         -         -

There was water dropping down his forehead. He felt cold and numb. His body heavy and sore.

There was a mechanical ticking coming from the far right corner across him. A clock ticking away in its monotonous rhythm. Getting louder the more he tried to ignore it. He got up to see Joel sitting on a chair next to a long table. The room was dark and moist. The only light source coming from six holes on the wall, high above near the ceiling.

"Joel?"

"What happened to you, Rick?"

He took a moment to process the question. The way the question had come out of his friend's mouth. Like he had betrayed his trust.

"You've changed. You aren't the same Rick I once knew."

The accusation stung like a slap. What was he to say? He didn't know what was happening himself. Joel's words, ' _you have changed',_ it was something he feared most. The change he's speaking of, was a euphemism to the truth of what he's truly become.

Joel didn't judge him for beating Teddy, he knew that much. It was most likely the smile on his face while he'd done the deed that troubled Joel. It wasn't right, no matter how evil the person was. It wasn't humane, they've learned that in the academy together. And now his actions made him no different from the rest of the inmates, who were proud of the crimes they've committed. What remained was a wild, savage beast taking control, knowing nothing else but to give misery to the ones near it.

It all felt like a nighmare of big mistakes and at times he would wonder if the world would be better off without him. He just has to let go. He didn't have anyone anymore. He didn't have a purpose. He surely wouldn't be missed, because everything he had was gone now.

"You're destroying yourself. Can't you see, the longer you are here the farther the distance grows between your son. Don't you want to go back?"

Joel meant well, but no words could reach him, he had just fallen so deep that light could barely touch him. They left him. They didn't want him.

"They left me, Joel!" Saying it out loud hurt more than he thought. Yes, they left him. It was because he was weak and selfish. Made promises he couldn't keep. Made them wait for nothing. He was such a bad father. Such a bad husband.

"You disappoint me, Rick."

The closet rattled and the only teacup left slowly fell onto the ground. Joel had been the only one who believed in him, but he too had enough of him, just like the others who he pushed away. He left him too. Walked out of the door to never turn back. The teacup shattering into a million of pieces as his friend disappeared.

He could never do anything right. Stupid Rick! All his decisions never made sense. He was always wrong. So wrong!

"Wait, Joel! Don't leave me!"

He begged and begged, but his friend never came back. His leg chained to the wall and no matter how much he pulled at it, it wouldn't budge. Reaching the door was a distant dream. He could not escape.

"Please! Not you too!

Everything crumbled down on him, he was starting to unravel. Nothing made sense anymore. He was lost, disoriented. The room was spinning around and he could _hear_ Shane laughing at him. He could _see_ Lori spitting at his shriveled form. He could _feel_ Carl slicing him open, releasing the horrible monster he tried to swallow down.

How could he embody something so dark and evil within him? It wasn't him. It was all an illusion. He knew that, but it felt so real. So painful. The monster was scratching its way out, leaving burning marks of red around his stomach. He was desperately trying to push it back down but it wouldn't sway.

He emptied his stomach on the floor. The pool of acid burning his nose as it slowly trickled down the drain, chunks persistently sticking on the floor. He was exhausted, breathing heavily and eyelids closing from fatigue, like a shot animal taking its final breaths. His body felt feverish warm and he was shaking to the bone.

He wanted to...

Disappear. To escape the suffering. Wanted to get rid of it all. He was tired. He wanted to lose all his memories. To start with a clean slate.

He was just so tired of it all.

And so he wished to never wake up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little easter egg: Theodore is from the show 'Prison Break'


	4. Chapter 4

Drip. Drop.

The roof was leaking. Had been spitting at him the whole time, never stopping to take a break like it was mocking him for his situation. The drop stayed constant though, true to its nature. It woke Rick up as well as put him to sleep. It was his only hold on reality, making him remember where he truly was. Where he belonged.

It had been three weeks of hazy, gauzy, fuzzy in and outs of awareness and consciousness, which made him submissive and calmer for the majority of time, when he didn't just wake up from a nightmare. His conversations with Lori seemed to lessen, had gotten weaker and less violent since he had been swallowing the pills placed on his tray every evenings. Every other day he would get knocked out by drowsiness and sleep like a log, waking up with his whole body aching and bruising. He was feeling better and confident though, so much that he thought he could stay in the same room with Teddy without going off.

But he wasn't allowed free time anymore, he was stuck in his cell or whatever it was, twenty-four seven. No one spoke to him, even handing off his meals were silent as the movies from the nineteen-twenty's. The tray was just shoved through the opening as far as the guard could manage and it stayed there until the next one was inserted. The trays piled up on the table as Rick still had the decency to do that. By the end of the week, the door was opened and a person with a full body protective suit - even the face covered up - entered to gather up the trash. 

He was unable to go near them, cold water attacking him through the process. It was his bath time, he came to believe. But winter was coming and he had no way to cover up the linear holes. With wet hair and clothes he shivered for a few days under the thin blanket, which was left for him until his clothes have dried whilst hanging on the chain attached to his foot.

It had been difficult living in these circumstances, dehumanizing and cruel. He didn't pay much mind though, he focused more on perserving his inner stability, trying to build it up on clearer days. At one moment he would find himself in his home, eating dinner with Lori and Carl. Having a normal conversation about each other's day. It made him smile thinking about it, made him forget where he was and where he really belonged until the sound of drops pulled him back to where Lori's eyes were stripping him naked to be ashamed of himself.

But no matter how much he looked away, his gaze always wandered right back to her. The six holes on the wall were forming a cross, making her look divine under the arrows of light it cast. From heaven sent, she was his goddess. He worshipped her and so fell on his knee to bow his everlasting loyalty. He prayed to her, his hardships and weights, his wishes and future. But that wasn't enough for her, she wanted more of his devotion. Greed filling her from the taste of his bodily sacrifice. She wanted more. And he knew then, he worshipped the false goddess. But despite from hell sent, she was his goddess. Was his alone.

He lied down on the cold cemented floor. No bed, no mattress, no sheets. His back aching from the harshness of the ground. Shoulders stiff as it could get. His wounds, old and new, reacting to the weather. He swallowed the pill he saved in his pocket, wanting to feel nothing. Wanting to feel empty.

It was storming outside. Drops entering the holes and soaking the floor. Cold winds blowing, whistling as it passed the openings to circle the empty space inside. For a moment he heard Negan's tune and it was comforting to hear someone familiar, but then thunder boomed and drowned Negan out. Lightning struck and the room was filled in a flash of white. Appearing in the chair, the lady in his dreams.

"You deserve this."

Of course, he did. "I know." It's nothing compared to the pain he inflicted on others. It was the least punishment he could get away with. 

"I hate you.

"I love you."

"Do you really, Rick?"

And it hurt. Her asking that question, as if she hadn't felt it in all those years that they had been together. Like she hadn't seen the way his heart died and lived for her in crucial moments of their lives. Their marriage. Her father's death. Carl's birth. Her betrayal. "Yeah. I do, Lori.", but that wasn't right. "I did.", because the wound she scratched needed some time to heal. 

"Then how did we end up like this?"

How? It's because... "You were lonely and I was a fool to not have seen it." It was his fault, his mistake. That's what she wanted to hear. Turning the tables on him, she was here to make him look guilty, to make him admitt something he hadn't done.

He slowly felt himself drowing. The room filled with water. Lori glitching out of his sight. The pill had dissolved and was starting to do its magic.

They were drugs, the medicinal type but when misused very addicting. Rick knew the first time he swallowed one thinking it was a painkiller, well technically it was, but not the right dosage. It got him high, relaxed, made him stop thinking and seeing. He liked the feeling of it, to just forget about everything. So it wasn't a difficult decision when the next set of pills appeared on his tray the evening after. As to why the demons have been giving him these, was a mystery to itself. Maybe they had a greater plan in mind, but he just didn't care anymore. He desperately swallowed it down, just to stop hearing her. 

His eyes fluttered, sending images that weren't there to his mind. Feeling things he shouldn't. He found himself surrounded by water, school of fishes swimming in the distance. He was submerged in the ocean.

He swam, feeling weightless. The school racing past him. They were so beautiful, dancing in harmony. He just had to stop and admire them for a moment, mesmerized by their unity with nature. They returned to create a loop around him. Nudging him to swim with them and he did. Feeling the current gently pushing against his skin, he felt so free.

They entered a cave and dived deep. Coming to the part where the surface light stopped to come through. It was dark and made him anxious, but then all worries were washed away. Blue eyes were staring at him as the flashlight fishes were shying away. Jellyfishes jumping around, producing light of rainbows for him to see. But that wasn't all, his stokes stirred the bioluminecent plankton around him, emitting sparkly blue dots in the water. It was breathtaking as he swam through the lights. No word could express the magnificence and perfection they were creating.

They were reaching the end, light coming through again. He was sent yet again to another world. A colorful reef where many more reside. He was greeted by the smaller ones, tickling him as they were nibbling his face and tugging his jumpsuit, and gliding through his curls which they mistake for soft corals. He couldn't help but laugh at their innocence, how precious they were.

He explored the reef, getting up close to some of the fishes' homes. Taking a quick peek into little nemo's life. The tranquillity of it all made him relax into the touches of their greetings. He closed his eyes, taking in the moment of pure silence in the deep waters. 

He was safe here.

But then the calm was stirred and darkness loomed over him. His friends were hiding away as the water was tainted red. It was blood. 

His blood. 

Something had bit his neck. He tried to cover it up, but then he felt the hole. A chunk of flesh was bitten out and it wouldn't stop bleeding. He panicked and suddenly he wasn't able to breathe under water anymore. Air bubbles escaping him.

He saw something big coming his way and he feared for the worse. His arms and legs moved in quick uncoordinated storkes to reach the surface, but it didn't do him any good. His foot was once again chained, this time pulling him under, farther away from salvation.

The sharks have gathered around him, circling their dinner. It wasn't long before they started to stun Rick. Tails smacking his head and bodies clashing with his own, sending him twirling around the water with dizziness and knocking out the rest of his air. Each shark bit an arm, pulling at opposite directions and he shouted, feeling his tissues streching and ripping, and hearing his bones cracking and popping. He kicked at the other shark, still trying to put up a fight, but it did nothing. 

Both arms snapped and he could see his limbs getting chewed and swallowed. His open wounds squirted ink like a squid. Red polluted the blue water and nausea filled him before he was screaming again from the stinging of the saltwater on his open wound. His torso was next, ribs being crushed together as sharp teeth closed against each other. He could feel himself losing consciousness by suffocation and blood loss. The shark wiggled and it seperated Rick in two halves. His guts floating along the current, drifting like an eel. He could feel the water filling up his insides and washing it clean, coming right through his mouth and back to the other like a tunnel. He was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The sharks have abandoned him, leaving only the scrap behind. Leaving him to suffer.

The sun was shining above the surface. The pain had left him, his brain more focused on keeping his body alive. He was shaking violently, going to shock. He felt so helpless yet so relieved. The shimmering light in the clear blue water was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he ever saw. 

He was going to die.

But it didn't scare him because he could finally go to rest. Finally be in peace. Finally get rid of his thoughts. Never have to suffer. Never have to hurt anyone. Never going to see Carl.

Never have to see her again...

He hit the ground. His head pierced by a rock. He was looking up at the sun in his final moments. So bright, so beautiful. The most beautiful thing he ever saw and he wanted to see it again. Even if the world forbade him to. God help him.

He didn't want to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream is a metaphor to what really happened and Rick will remember every detail eventually.


End file.
